Take It or Reeve It
by Darknightdestiny
Summary: [TifaxReeve][AU, Dedications inside] When her relationship hits the rocks, Tifa finds comfort in her boss...
1. Prelude to Disaster

**Prelude to Disaster**

_This fic is for Bleuwyn, Motchi, and Nineshadows (best of luck and joy as we endeavor to write our non-VinTifs!), and for LilTigre, who adores Reeve...and for Randi Lynne, who adores CidxYuffie. Before I begin (or get flames from rabid fangirls), I remind you all that this fic takes place in an Alternate Universe, and is in no way a reflection of my feelings about any of the characters...especially Reno...but with exception to Lucrecia. Ha. Also, I think it takes a complex person with deep-seeded issues to act this way (and I'll get into them in later chapters), and I'm tired of seeing Reno portrayed as either a slacker or a flirt, or a simple-minded jerk. And even though he's a 'bad guy' here, I'm going to try to give him more dimension than that._

**(-warnings: language-)**

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I was lying on our bed when he returned, staring at the wall with the sheets bundled tightly in my arms. My eyes were puffy and red, and they burned like hell from all the rubbing I'd been doing, but he didn't notice that. He didn't even try to seek out my face. He just cozied up behind me like he always did; I flinched at the contact, but he didn't seem to notice that either, or if he did, he was doing a good job of pretending it wasn't there. So I tried to pretend that _he_ wasn't there.

When he finally reached out to skim the curve of my hip with his rough fingertips, I forcefully threw his hand off of me with a wild bat of my arm, drawing my knees up even nearer to my chest.

"Aw, babe. What's wrong?"

I clenched my teeth, my jaw set in firm determination to not whip around and deck him square in the face. How I hated that patronizing, unassuming tone. I was half-convinced he did it on purpose - no, I _knew_ he did - as if by playing clueless, he couldn't be blamed for anything that had happened only minutes before. Well, he'd seemed to know _exactly_ what was going on _then_.

"You know _what's wrong_," I said, mimicking the lilting, sing-song voice he'd used. I, myself, would never talk to _him_ like that. That tone was reserved for small children and fluffy animals.

I held my breath as I waited for his reaction. For a moment, there was nothing. But then I felt him push away from the body I'd hardened against him to lie on his back, presumably to watch the ceiling fan turn. "I don't know what to tell you."

His reply was offhanded, as if he were mentally shrugging to himself. That was it? He had to be joking! After all that happened earlier...he ran off, leaving me a mess of raging tears...did he really expect things to be as if it never happened at all?

"I can't just turn it off like you," I said, not bothering to hide the swell in my throat that had become so laced with bitterness over the last several months.

It was times like these that I envied him. Reno never had to deal with anything. He could do or say whatever he wanted, and when confronted about it, he could yell and scream and say the nastiest, most hurtful things imaginable, before walking out the door without batting an eye at the pain so obviously etched on my face. And if I was still angry when he came back, then I was the one with the problem. Honestly, I can't figure out why he thought he had it so hard.

His weight shifted on the mattress, and I felt him leave it, his socks shuffling against the carpet as he stood. "Well, when you're done feeling sorry for yourself, I'll be out there."

How dare he! I jumped to my knees, glaring furious daggers at his retreating form. Oh, no. He wasn't getting off that easy. "You called me a fucking cunt, Reno! That's the worst thing you could say!" I clenched my fists tightly as I shouted after him. "How did you think I would feel?"

He turned swiftly around to face me, eyes wide and wild with no small amount of incredulity. "You were _acting like a cunt_!" he exclaimed, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and if I weren't so stupid to not realize it, then our problems would be solved.

I climbed over the bed to stand several feet away from him, my arms so tensed at my sides that they burned. "I'm sick and tired of the way you talk to me!"

"That makes two of us!" he shot back.

Ah, right. Reno always had his fail-safe plan; whenever he couldn't think of anything to say and didn't have a good excuse for the way he was acting, he would throw my own words back at me, whether they were applicable or not. Though, he usually didn't resort to that until much later in our fight. He must have been tired.

I blinked. "What?"

"I'm tired of you talking to me like I'm some kind of dog!" he spat.

"Oh gods, Reno!" I hit my forehead in disbelief. "All I asked you to do was to leave your phone on, and on you."

"So you can call me five times an hour?" he prodded, raising his eyebrows and taking an angry step in my direction. Still, I held my ground.

"I don't do that. And you should expect a call when you're not home even after all the bars are closed!"

"Oh, so you can tell me where I should be, then. Gee, thanks Mom," he said, turning on his heel and walking away.

I put my hands on my hips as I watched his lazy stride. "What the hell is so important that you can't be interrupted?"

"...Fuck you," he called over his shoulder.

I stood there stewing for a minute before following him into the living room. "What was that for?"

He stopped dead in his tracks then, turning around so suddenly that I had to jump back, shoving his finger into my face. "Don't pussyfoot around. If you've got something to say, then just say it," he ground out, squinting his eyes menacingly at me. "But don't play games."

Right, I nearly forgot. I only did this because it brought me loads of joy and I got a kick out of seeing him suffer. "You think this is a game to me?"

"I don't know what it is," he said, walking through the room and into the kitchen to rummage through the refrigerator.

"Reno, you come home talking about-"

"Shut up!" he yelled, cutting the air with his hand. "Just...shut the fuck up."

"No," I said firmly, stomping my foot. "I will not. You wanted me to talk, so I'm going to."

"_Thank you_!" he shouted, as he slammed the door shut.

I brought my voice dangerously low as I was only seconds from giving him a pounding he would never forget, my eyes narrowed into tiny warning slits. "You always come through here, talking about how much everyone likes you _at work_, how they appreciate you _at work_, how the girls _at work _think you're so great..."

"I'm _waiting_."

"Well, what do you expect me to do, when you go off without me? Just sit here with a smile?"

That was my main issue with Reno. He made it seem like I didn't have anything to offer him, like I didn't do enough for him. Everyone else around him appreciated him in his eyes, though I thought someone other than myself should explain to him that they didn't care about what their shameless flirting was doing to his personal life, that they didn't care about the woman waiting for him at home, and that there was a difference between truly appreciating a person and appreciating the idea that they might be an easy lay.

Because Reno never listened to me. Apparently, I was out to ruin his fun.

"_We work together_," he growled, like I didn't understand that already. Hell, that they worked together was half the problem! "We're already there. It's not like it's just me and a bunch of girls all the time."

But I knew the type, and I wouldn't go so far as to call them 'girls'. They hung all over him (there was one in particular that just _would not leave him alone_; I like to refer to her as Scarlet the harlot...my little nickname), and he wasn't the only one. And the other guys? They treated their girlfriends just as badly.

"So why do you turn your phone off?" I asked. "Or, even worse, why do you leave it on and in your car, so I keep trying to reach you? Do you have any idea how crazy that makes me?"

"Oh, you're definitely fucking crazy," he said, leaning against the counter with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. I heard somewhere that hearing that line was as good as hearing a confession. "How about this; you just worry about you, and I'll worry about me."

Impossible. "That's not a relationship, Reno! That's roommates."

"Then why don't you say what you want to say!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" I screamed, waving my arms in exasperation. "I just did!"

"Right," he muttered, violently brushing past me.

He wasn't really waiting for me to say just _anything_ that was on my mind; he wanted me to come out and say that I didn't trust him. It took me a while to figure this out, that he wasn't completely unaware that I'd been talking the whole time (although he always disregarded what I said), but that he wanted something specific. I used to just think he was crazy, but I'd learned the hard way. And while I knew this, I wouldn't dare say it; I was too afraid. Because if he hadn't yet found his way into another woman's arms (despite all the circumstantial evidence that told me otherwise), I was sure _that_ little admission would take him all the way.

Reno laced his shoes and grabbed his coat from where it had been draped over the back of the armchair. "I'm going out," he said, making his way to the front door and swinging it open.

I knew he was going to leave, and I could feel everything slipping out of my reach again. "You shouldn't be out there with _them_," I said, a bit softer in an effort to stay him long enough to change his mind. "You should be here with me."

"Because you're such a joy to come home to," he jabbed, without even stopping to look at me. He shut the door behind him then, and disappeared into the night.

Ouch. All right, so maybe 'cunt' wasn't the worst thing he could have said. And I was all alone again.

Before I could help myself I was crying and walking back to the bedroom. I hadn't thought there were any more tears left, but I'd been mistaken. I felt more than ready to sink lifelessly into the mattress, wanting nothing more than to fade into comforting black and never wake up again, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to sleep, not when he was out with gods-knew-who, doing gods-knew-what. But I reached over to turn out the bedside lamp just the same, noticing something familiar sitting on the nightstand.

His phone.

And _that _was when I cursed and put my fist through the window.

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_**AN: **Next chapter...Reeve! And...Cloud, Vincent, Yuffie and Cid. So far, my plans are to update this once every Saturday, or at least by Sunday. At any rate, once a weekend, if things work out. Meanwhile, I would LOVE to hear what you thought about this chapter._

_Thanks to Motchi's husband for the story title. It was either that, or "Reeve me Alone." Motchi suggested, "Reeve it to Tifa." And while things like "Exchange Policy" or "Cheque Your Personal Baggage at the Door" seemed more serious, how could I NOT use it?_

_'Till next time..._

_Love._


	2. Bossman Reeve

**Bossman Reeve**

I passed Cloud on my way into work the next morning. He was standing out in front of the shop, talking on his phone. He smiled and waved at me, but his smile turned into a frown when he saw the bandages wrapped around my hand. He pointed, tilting his head in question and mouthing, 'What's that?' during a break in coversation, and I waved him off with a sheepish grin and mouthed back, 'Tell you later.' He nodded, though he didn't lose the look of concern he wore, and returned to what was, from the sound of things, not a personal call. I kept walking past him, into the store.

Cloud was as sweet as could be, with golden skin, sunbleached hair and a splash of freckles on his nose. He had a smile that could stop any girl dead in her tracks and unnaturally blue eyes. I met Cloud in college. He was studying for a degree in business, and I...well, I dropped out to become a full-time waitress when I moved out of my parent's house so that I could be with Reno. And here I was...working for him. See, I'd managed to keep in touch with him, because his girlfriend, Aerith, was also a waitress at the restaurant where I worked. When I had to quit my job there, Cloud was good enough to let me come and work for him. But Cloud was leaving; he got a job with the corporate office, and he no longer had to manage the store.

The store I speak of was a high-end clothing shop on the upper east side of Junon. We mostly attracted businessmen and the wealthy, but we also outfitted the staff of several renowned hotels and upscale dining bistros. But that wasn't really my scene.

No sooner had I busied myself with straightening the shoe displays and skimming the racks for damaged merchandise (I did anything I could to keep myself busy in those days), when I heard the office door click shut behind me. I turned around to see Vincent carrying a large and heavy-looking box in his hands and a list in his mouth, walking around the sales counter to set both items on the floor behind it. I rose from where I'd been kneeling on the floor, admiring the watches in their glass cases, and made my way over to him.

"What's all this?" I asked, pointing to the box with the papers on top.

"These," he said, pulling a pen from the pocket of his dress slacks and handing it to me, "need to be counted and tagged. The list is for inventory."

"Yay, inventory," I said with mock enthusiasm, twirling a finger in the air as I accepted the pen.

He flashed me a smile. "That's a good girl." Then, he hesitated mid-turn, as if he wasn't sure about something, and stopped. "...What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, this?" I said, gesturing to my arm and then placing it behind my back, before he could get a closer look. "I was fixing dinner last night, and I slipped and cut myself. It's not a big deal," I tried to assure him, laughing it off.

Vincent frowned, unconvinced, but he didn't press the matter any further. He just let me go with the usual "Hmm," before disappearing into the office again. I should have known better than to try and fool him anyway; Vincent had an uncanny sixth sense about those he knew, and everyone knew I didn't fix dinner anymore anyways, because I'd complained more than a few times about coming home to an empty house. The most personal details of my problems with Reno I didn't share with anyone else, but it was no secret that we were falling apart.

Vincent acted as our assistant manager and receiving manager, which was just as well, because he seemed like he belonged there. Vincent was perfectly groomed, physically and socially, with his perfect black hair tied back into a perfect black ponytail, his perfect white unblemished skin, his smooth and uncalloused hands and his most charming personality. He was elegant and classy like the clothing he sold, and he carried himself with such an air of dignity that his presence commanded attention. On top of that, he was a great listener; he knew things about some of us that we didn't even know ourselves. Maybe that's why his girlfriend was always so damn paranoid...but I'll get to her later.

About a year back, Vincent was up for a position as head manager at another store a couple of towns over, but he didn't want to move, and he didn't want to commute, so he turned the promotion down. He'd been at the shop ever since I'd started working there, and I was honestly glad he'd stayed. I guess that was the one good thing, or the one thing that wasn't bad, about Cloud leaving; I already knew Vincent, and we got along pretty well, so I didn't really mind the idea of him being in charge of things. That, and I knew my job would be secure with him.

"_Awww...why?_"

I was cut short from trying to determine whether or not Vincent knew what was going on with me by the tired whine of my co-worker, followed by the heavy thud of her backpack on the floor. Yuffie trudged over to the box and flopped down next to it, grabbing her set of keys from her pack before settling into a cross-legged position and ripping the tape away with the jangling metal. I ducked down next to her and examined the list, keeping my other arm as naturally useless and hidden as possible.

"You know," she said, tearing the cardboard open and holding up one of the men's dress shirts, "I hate retail."

I smiled, watching her rummage around for the pricing gun. "Tell me about it. I used to clear twenty gil an hour on tips alone."

Yuffie looked up at me, dumbfounded. "Why the _hell did you quit_?"

Honestly? I quit because I couldn't stand being stuck in the weeds and not knowing when I'd see Reno again. There was too much going on at once, and I felt completely powerless to do anything about it. I couldn't even stop to make a phone call, I got so busy. And half the time I could catch a breather, I couldn't get in touch with him anyways. I thought about it for a minute. "I guess I wanted to free up my nights."

Yuffie grinned at me, thinking she understood. "Oh, man. Me too. I just love the nightlife. Can you imagine being stuck _here_ when the clubs open?"

I laughed falsely, only half listening to what she was saying. I didn't love the nightlife at all; I hated it and its women for stealing my boyfriend away. And if I hadn't known Yuffie better than that, I'd probably hate her too.

Oh, but I was becoming too bitter for my own good!

It was no sooner than Yuffie had located the gun and I began perusing the list, when Cloud walked through the front doors, pocketing his phone. He grinned at the both of us and half-sat on the counter, balancing with one leg on the floor. "Hey, ladies. The van's here, and I think Vincent could use your help."

"Uh...yeah." Yuffie nodded and headed toward the back without her usual moaning; Cloud wasn't the type to be taken in by that (not without dishing out some unwanted optimism and encouragement while trying to put things in perspective), and he was too nice to gripe at in any case. I went to follow her, but felt a hand fall lightly on my shoulder.

"...Tifa, can I talk to you for a second?"

I turned and reluctantly nodded, already knowing what it was about. I called an, "I'll be right behind you," over my shoulder to Yuffie, but she was already gone, so I casually leaned one side against the counter in preparation for his question.

Cloud tilted his head in that damned brotherly way of his, his brow creased with concern. "What happened to your hand?"

I held up my arm, glancing at it and then pushing the matter aside. Best to stick with my original story, no matter how ridiculously obvious it was that it was a lie. Should Cloud mention to Vincent that he was worried about me, I didn't want Vincent making the subtle suggestion that he didn't believe my story and Cloud not knowing what he was talking about. Then they'd know for sure that I was covering something up. "I was deboning a chicken. My knife slipped." I shrugged, shoving my hopes that he wouldn't see right through me down to the pit of my stomach. "Butterfingers."

His eyes followed my arm to where my hand came to rest on the counter, ignoring the faulty smile I wore. His voice was soft and resigned when he spoke next, and I could tell he wasn't convinced when he said, "I see. You should be more careful. Those chickens are tricky, you know, slippery bones and all."

I nodded anyways. "So...I should go help unload the van, I guess."

"Yeah, you can go," he said, but he stopped me again when I turned to leave. "Tifa?"

I twirled around on one foot, a bit too quickly, and I had to catch my balance with the other. "Mm-hmm?"

He was wearing that worried look again, and it made me feel guilty for putting it there. "...You know you can talk to me, right?"

I brightened a bit, another attempt to throw him off. "Yep."

"Ok," he said, running his hand through his hair and looking over the list I'd set down on the counter before returning his eyes to me. "That's all, then. I won't keep you."

I turned tail and headed toward the back office, not stopping to say anything else to him. I didn't want to tell Cloud exactly how upset I was, not after all he'd done for me already. I wasn't his problem, and I didn't want anyone worrying over me. Besides, I was still holding out hope that maybe Reno and I could work through our problems (I did still love him, no matter how miserable he sometimes made me), and I didn't want to deal with the complicated after-effects of badmouthing him to my co-workers every time we went through a rough patch. If I ever decided I wanted things to work, I didn't need everyone else thinking they knew what was best for me because I'd given them my side of the story alone. They didn't even know him.

And I knew Cloud would later ask Aerith if I'd told her anything. And he knew that I knew. I could just feel it in the air; everyone knew that something was wrong at home. Gossip was just another part of human nature, and I'd learned to keep the bigger things - those things which by saying had the potential to take me in directions I couldn't backtrack - to myself.

I made my way around the boxes littering the floor of Vincent's office to the hallway beyond. To my left side there was a staircase leading up to the head office, where the safe was kept, and ahead lay the back exit, propped open with a broken chair, where Cid usually parked the van. It was next to the trash bin, which was convenient when we were casting away used boxes.

Vincent passed me, two of the large boxes stacked in his arms. When I reached the back of the van, Cid was readying a box for Yuffie, and he greeted me in his cheery, surly voice. "Hey, Lockheart! How you doin'?"

Cid reminded me of an older, rougher version of Cloud (if he'd aged ten years in three years' worth of time), with his platinum hair and thick hide. He wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, and though he had a mouth like a sailor, he didn't use it to complain, even when he knew he deserved better. He loved to party as much as Yuffie, but he had the soul of a much older man, always ready with advice, but only when asked for it.

Cid was also one of the smartest people I'd ever met. He had a degree in mechanical engineering, and he'd designed a few of the bigger projects that could be seen hovering over or sailing through the busy port. He was currently taking it easy, milking the revenue he got from other companies' adaptations. Cid had once expressed a disdain for working under anyone else if he could help it, but he also didn't like having nothing to do while he was stuck in the middle of a project. He got his job with the store by personal favor (I think he went to college with Vincent's girlfriend). I thought that was just as well, because he seemed the independent type, and if he couldn't enjoy the vacation, his spirit wouldn't break as long as he was in good company.

"I'm fine, Cid. How are you?"

"Just peachy!" He grinned around the still unlit cigarette that hung limply from the corner of his mouth. "The sun's shinin', an' there's a nice breeze comin' off the water. Can you smell that?"

"...Fish?" I teased.

"Salt air, Tifa! An' you know what?" he said, hefting the box into Yuffie's waiting arms, "It don't cost a thing."

As Yuffie rounded my still form and made her way back into the building, I heard Cloud's voice over my shoulder. I jumped, startled at the unexpected volume, but he didn't seem to notice. His attention was trained on Cid.

"When you're done here, do you think you could stick around for a bit? I want you to meet the new guy."

Cid grinned back at him. "Do I have to act like a phony?"

"No," Cloud answered, laughing. "He seems pretty cool, actually. I had lunch with him the other day while we went over some things. He's personable, but professional, if you know what I mean. I think he's a stickler for rules, but in that awkward, goody-goody way." He made some gestures with his hands, as if that would help Cid understand what he was getting at.

"Not a prick, though?"

Cloud smiled, and shook his head. "Not a prick."

"Good."

"I'll see you inside, then," he finished, and walked back toward the staircase.

Before I could react, I felt the weight of a cardboard box being pressed against my chest. I snapped back to reality just in time to ask, "...New guy?"

"Yeah," Cid said, rubbing the back of his tanned neck with a gloved hand. "Cloud's leaving, and this is the guy who's gonna take his place."

"What?" I jumped again at the sound of Yuffie's shrill outburst behind me. She put one hand up in what I assumed to be a useless effort to stop time as she came to stand next to me, and we both faced Cid with our own particular brand of confusion. "I thought _Vincent_ was supposed to get that job!"

"Guess not." Cid shrugged. "Though he doesn't seem too upset by it. I would be, though. He has to train him an' everything."

"That doesn't seem right at all," I said, turning back to the store.

"Hey," he called after me. "Don't say anything, all right? Today might be rough for both of 'em, and neither one of 'em needs the trouble. Got me?"

"Yeah, I got you." I walked back into the office, where Vincent was scribbling something on a notepad. He had his phone cradled between his chin and shoulder, and I wouldn't have bothered him anyway. There was so much to be done before opening, and Vincent didn't like to talk when he was busy, unless he was doing something menial and mindless. I set the box down silently and went back outside.

When I returned to the rear parking lot, Yuffie was sitting cross-legged in the back of the van, and Cid was leaning against the open door. They were already engaged in a conversation, but they stopped as soon as they saw me approaching. I didn't know what it was all about, so I settled for the last thing we'd shared.

"So...when is this guy coming?"

"Before opening, I'm sure," Cid said. "It'd make sense to get started before he had to deal with the public. And it'll give him time to get used to us." He pulled one foot up behind him in a stretch, then the other, and I heard the second of his knees pop. "Besides, I know Cloud wouldn't keep me waiting that long." Then he paused, just as he was beginning to crack his knuckles. "Hey. What happened to your hand?"

"Oh, boy." I rolled my eyes. "If anyone else asks me that, I'm going to..."

"How come I never noticed that?" Yuffie asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, but it's _not_ important." I pointed to the two boxes sitting on the ground in front of them. "Is that all?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll get one, you get the other."

"No, no," Cid interjected. "I'll get the boxes. You ladies go on."

Yuffie smiled in response. "All right. We'll meet you inside."

I waited for her to catch up to me before leaving. Cid was kind enough to help her out of the back of the van and onto the ground, but I didn't miss the way he guided her away from the doors he was about to shut with his hand at the small of her back, or the way the action seemed a bit softer than I would have expected from him. For all I knew, it could have been my imagination, but it was then that I began to suspect that Yuffie had a few secrets of her own. I knew the world didn't revolve around me, but I still thought it was strange that she was the one person who didn't notice my bandaged knuckles and wrist, when she was always observant and curious in the past until just recently. After witnessing the subtle exchange, I assumed her mind must have been elsewhere the entire time. Come to think of it, her mood was considerably different whenever he was around...

Vincent was reclined in his chair when we walked in, holding a packet of papers in his hand and flipping through them. Yuffie shot me a look of both sympathy and contempt, and then, as if he had sensed a disturbance in the air and without looking up from his papers, he asked, "Did you need something?"

"No," I reassured him, though he didn't seem too worked up about it. It occurred to me that he'd probably heard our entire conversation from his desk. "We're just passing through."

I ushered Yuffie out of the office, and we returned to our places behind the counter. "This sucks," she said. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know." I picked up my list and started for the rack nearest the door so I could forget discussion for a while. When I walked in that morning, I had wanted anything to keep my mind off of what was going on at home, but it seemed that my workplace was quickly filling my drama quota for the day, and I had no desire to add that to my repertoire.

Soon I noticed Yuffie getting restless at the counter, the repetitive movements of the gun in her hand becoming too much for her as she slung garments from left to right again and again. I sensed an imminent shouting from across the room, so I attempted to sneak my way into the side room where we kept the shoes (skipping ahead couldn't hurt in this case), but I was interrupted by the soft bell at the front door chiming as it shut behind our newest visitor.

He was the kind of man who looked like he belonged in a place like ours, but he didn't have that hurried pace or that condescending appraisal I'd gotten so used to. He was well-dressed in his silk shirt and dress slacks, with that shiny clip that kept his tie from blowing about (ties are completely without function, if you ask me), and that trench coat with the scarf hung loosely over the back of his neck. His attire made me think of Vincent for a moment, but he carried a sense of approachability that Vincent only had when he had run out of things to do and we could get him to sit still for a moment. Sure, Vince was kind in his own right, but I'd never interrupt him in the middle of something.

No, this man stood his ground for a moment before slowly stepping forward, taking everything in, like he was...warming up to the place. I realized that this must have been the new manager they were talking about earlier. He was the one who was going to change everything.

"We're closed," I heard Yuffie say. I saw him walk steadily over to her, and if not for the quickening in his pace, it would have seemed like he hadn't even heard her. He held out his hand in greeting, and she eyed it warily until he spoke.

"Hi, I'm Reeve Tuesti. I believe I'm here for a meeting?" His voice was smooth and seamless, and it almost sounded as if he were singing the words. There was a depth and a warmth projected in his tone that in and of themselves could have won over the most untrusting person. He spoke clearly and confidently; he had a voice suited for television or radio, and I imagined he had a wealth of social skills.

Yuffie tilted her head, and then I saw the moment when her brain began to kick in. "Oh! Uh..." She stumbled for her words as she took his hand. "They're waiting for you, in the back...I think." She took her hand back and stepped out from around the counter. "Um, maybe I should go and tell them you're here. I don't know if they're ready or what."

"Thank you very much," he replied. "And you are?"

"I'm Yuffie," she said, recovering slightly. "...Sorry about that."

He laughed, a sincere and jovial ring. "It's nice to meet you. And it's not a problem. I'll be waiting here."

She hurried to the back of the store, flashing me wide and embarrassed eyes. I watched as he scanned the room with obvious interest, and before I knew it, his gaze had landed on me. Well, naturally. I was in the room after all, wasn't I? And I'd been caught watching him.

I must have appeared curious or expectant, because he wasted no time in making his way toward me, hand outstretched. "Hi," he said, now close enough that I could see his smile. "Reeve Tuesti."

I took his hand, flustered, but unable to help the smile his easy-going nature had elicited from me. Already I had forgotten about my problems, serious as they were. His smile was genuine, I could tell from the eager gleam in his eyes, and his hands were firm and warm despite the recent cold front, like he'd been holding them in his pockets for the last half hour. "Tifa Lockheart."

His smile faded slightly when his eyes found the source of the friction in his grip. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, turning my hand over in his to examine the bandages before releasing me.

My bitterness instantly returned to me, washing over me like painfully slow waves carrying me out to sea, and I said the first thing I could think of. "No, I just like them."

The reply had come out more biting that I would have liked, but to my surprise he just laughed it off with another one of his melodic, throaty chuckles. "I suppose it was a silly thing of me to ask. But you're all right now, I'm guessing?"

His brown eyes were strangely bright, bursting full and burning through me. His gaze was more intense than Vincent's when he was searching for something, yet kinder than Cloud's, and older, wiser than Cid's, but without the wear and tear.

_I just met you._

I blinked. "I'm...fine."

"Well, that's good to hear, Tifa. It seems that we'll be working together from now on." His smile returned, framed by his neatly trimmed beard. Gods, but there wasn't one stray hair to be found on his face.

I searched for something to say, but the back door opened and Vincent emerged, looking every bit the professional as he offerred his hand to this new man. Reeve took his hand, and Vincent nodded to him. "Mr. Tuesti."

"Mr. Valentine," Reeve responded in kind, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit and his smile never faltering. "Call me Reeve. It's a needless formality, don't you think?"

Vincent's eyes narrowed and his mouth softened, something I learned he did when he was considering something or someone. "Very well, then. I-"

"Reeve." Cloud came jogging out of the back room and slowed near Vincent's elbow, offering his hand out to the man with the same eagerness I'd seen Mr. Tuesti show before. "It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you too, Cloud. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know. A little of this, a little of that." Cloud ran his hand through his hair like he usually did when he was at a loss for words. "If you'll just come with me, we can get started. I've got a couple of things to run by you, but you'll be spending most of the morning with Vincent." Cloud nodded toward the taller man, and I saw Yuffie slip back into the room with Cid in tow.

"Well, I guess we should get started then," Reeve said, turning to me and flashing another winning smile. "It was nice meeting you, Tifa."

"Same to you," I said lamely, "Mr. Tuesti."

"Haven't you been listening?" he said, unable to hide the humor in his voice. "You can call me Reeve, you know."

I nodded numbly. "...Sure."

He smiled at me again before following Cloud and Vincent to the office. Cloud intercepted Cid on the way, and Yuffie slipped out of the crowd unnoticed by all but myself, and perhaps Cid. "Cid Highwind," I heard his gruff voice say. "Nice to meet yeh'."

The four men went to the back to talk, while I stood there, dumbfounded by what had taken place. That man...

Yuffie scurried over to my side, animated as ever.

Reeve was...

"Oh my _gawd_, Tifa. Did you _see_ that man?"

Was...

"_Hot damn_."

I blinked again. "...We should get back to work."

"Oh, you're no fun," Yuffie said. "Fine. But can we switch?"

"Yeah, I guess so." My concentration was worn down to a tiny nub anyways.

By the time we made our way back to the sales desk, Cid was already hobbling out of the office. "They made you stay for _that_?" Yuffie asked. "You weren't even in there for five minutes!"

Cid shrugged. "They've got business, I guess." He pulled the cigarette from its resting place behind his ear and twirled it absently between his fingers. "High-maintenance, if you ask me."

As he set up camp, leaning against the counter, Yuffie grabbed the pricing gun from my hands and returned to her original, mindless job without further question. "I didn't notice."

_**AN: 11/03/2006, **Thanks to Motchi and Bleuwyn for their fantastic beta. I hope I did well with Reeve's character. He doesn't get a lot of love, and I hope I did him justice. There will be a lot of plot development later on down the line, and all the characters will fall into their specific roles as we go along. Man, I'm having so much fun._

_Reviews are love :)_


	3. No Pressure

**No Pressure**

I'd always been pretty concerned about the state of my relationship, even in the beginning. I should have known back then that things weren't going to be easy, to say the least; Reno was a flake, and his priorities were always skewed. The most important thing in the world to Reno was...well, Reno. I really should have put my foot down the first time he stood me up for our date, but back then I thought he was some sort of misguided angel, and I couldn't resist his ridiculous apologies. Now I can't help thinking that my willingness to compromise every step of the way is what led me to the breaking point.

I'd been worried for a long time, yes. But even before things got so complicated and I became so resentful, and Reno began insulting me to my face and making it clear that he'd rather be around his friends than with me, there was one defining moment that finally brought the knowledge that we were a terrible disaster to the forefront of my mind.

Meeting Reno's mother.

I knew we had problems, but I never considered them to be urgent problems. Oh no, no one ever realizes they're with the wrong person until they've already bought a two-story home together and had two children, a dog, and a joint savings account. And that was the direction Reno's family seemed insistent that we travel in. Together.

I was very much surprised to find that Reno even had a mother, what with his lack of self-control. I doubted he'd ever been disciplined a day in his life, but I also doubted his mother had ever known there was a need. She was the sweetest woman alive - to the point of annoyance - and she lived her life in blissful denial. As far as she was concerned, Reno _was_ an angel, perfect in every way.

And who in their right mind wouldn't jump at the chance to marry an angel?

When she first asked the question, it was amidst timid laughter, as if it were a joke. But that sound was timid enough to let me know that it wasn't a joke at all; she was testing the waters and trying to get me to tell her whether or not I thought enough of her son to marry him. And then I realized...

When I thought about marrying Reno, and I mean really thought about it, I was petrified. It wasn't about money, or any of the usual reasons; I couldn't care less how well we lived, as long as we were happy. But I didn't think we'd be happy. And when I got married, I wanted to be sure it was for the right reasons. Not because I had anything to gain, and not because I had anything to lose by _not_ marrying him.

It was the thought of living with a complete stranger for the rest of my life that frightened me. Oh sure, an air of mystery on a man who plays the victimized loner is attractive at first, but when I find that he keeps secrets because there are things about him he _doesn't want me to know_, then I start to wonder why, especially when he keeps finding new things to hide. And pretty soon it begins to drive me absolutely crazy.

So I quit school.

It wasn't logical at all, I know, but I was so weak. We were drifting apart, and I didn't want to leave him (how could I have known that things would only get worse?); I wanted to wait it out and see what happened. I wanted to have faith in Reno, because gods, I loved him so much, and I wanted it to work.

So when he asked me to move in with him, I stupidly said yes. And then I dropped out of school.

But when I really stop and think about it, everything I did from that point on was proof of how little I trusted him. And such a sudden shift in behavior on my part should have been a pretty good indicator that I knew in the bottom of my heart that I never should have trusted him to begin with.

I dropped out of college and got a new job. I made sure that if ever we broke up, I would be able to pay the bills on my own, without needing help or dipping into savings. I saved everything I could. Our apartment was in my name. I never shared any accounts with him, or even put his name on any of my credit cards.

I was already preparing for a clean break.

It didn't help, however, that I had become such a welcome member of his family. It was odd, how suddenly they all took to me. And the longer I stayed with him, the more attached I became to them, despite my resolve not to. I suppose there was one benefit to having his family think so highly of me; whenever Reno and I would fight, he wouldn't badmouth me to his folks.

However, since there was no lasting presence in his life that hadn't become part of my own life by default, since we were living our lives together, Reno started finding other people to talk to. That was all well and good; he was always so anti-social, and I thought he should have friends. But soon he stopped coming home on time, started staying out into the early hours of the morning.

I got him a cell phone, but it didn't do me any good; Reno stayed out because he felt he needed to get away from me, and he wasn't going to make it easy for me to hang onto him. I can understand his needing time to himself, but did it have to be from ten o'clock at night to five o'clock in the morning? Did he have to shut his phone off, so I couldn't get in touch with him? Oh, right. I almost forgot the reason he went out in the first place, and here I've just said it. He wanted to forget about me.

And forget about me he did.

It was the third time he had forgotten to pick me up from work when he'd said he would. Thankfully, Aerith was scheduled to close up with me, and she was still around when I finished cleaning my section. She dropped me off at home, where I was hoping against all odds to find Reno so that I could give him the scolding of his life, but instead I found myself all alone in a dark apartment, waiting until four o'clock in the morning when he finally stumbled in.

Shitfaced and unbothering to first peek in the bedroom where I waited in the shadows, wide awake and silently crying over how damned selfish he could be, he stripped in the hallway and disappeared into the bathroom. And turned on the shower.

Nevermind that he was supposed to pick me up and had, inhumanly, forgotten about me entirely. Nevermind that he had gotten off of work two full hours before I did and still ended up at home five hours later than when I'd walked in the door. Reno was taking a shower, first thing.

Though, Reno always took showers when he got home from work, didn't he? Yes; he'd been working all day. Nothing unusual about that, but my mind kept nagging at me. And nagging...and nagging.

So I quit my job.

Again, illogical. But I couldn't stand sitting at work and wondering all night. Granted, it was only a window of a couple of hours that I would be out of work before Reno, but at least I'd be free to use my phone, and even to stop by if I felt the need. Well, it made me feel better.

The night I quit was actually pretty funny. I hadn't planned it, honestly, but I was suddenly so overcome with the image of Reno screwing around with some random girl from work at home in our bed that I marched straight to the back office, handed my boss my apron and told him he could keep it all. Then I raced home as fast as I could.

Told you it was funny.

Whenever I visited the club after that, Reno would always take me outside to talk to me. Never in front of anyone else, always outside. That irked me to no end. I realize he was at work, but even when I caught him on his break - and it seemed like he was on break an awful lot - he would still take me far away from everyone else. He never wanted me up there when he was done with work and busy partying, either. Said it wasn't my scene, I'd said so myself. I tried to explain that I still wanted to spend my time with him.

But I wasn't invited. He wanted to keep his work life and his personal life separate.

Then came the biggest scare of my life.

I was five days late; I knew this because my cycle had always been like clockwork. All I could think about was that I was probably carrying Reno's baby, and that thought scared me shitless. I didn't need another reason to be tied to Reno, and I didn't want to go through a nasty fight over our child. I didn't want him being raised by Reno, and I didn't want him growing up around the company he kept.

I thought about having an abortion. Gods, it was a terrible feeling, but when I thought about going through pregnancy and childbirth with Reno, I was petrified. I didn't know what else to do. I'd always thought it was impossible and wrong that someone could bring themselves to go through that, but I suddenly found myself in the position to empathize. After a lot of deliberation, I'd almost worked myself up to the point where I was ready to go ahead with it, even if I'd never forgive myself.

But personal values won out in the end; there had to be a better way. I had a savings account that I hadn't touched ever since I started it; maybe I could disappear and raise the baby all by myself. It would be hard, but it would be a lot easier to live with in the long run. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe...

I was so relieved when father time finally decided to get off his lazy ass and prove me wrong. I wasn't pregnant. I didn't have to worry about children, at least not yet.

Right.

I blamed it on all the stress Reno had put me through, but the entire ordeal had me rethinking the way I handled birth control. I had to find myself a reliable pill, and fast. Oh, how I wanted to ask for something more than that, but if I mentioned latex to Reno, I didn't know what he would do. It would just be one more outward sign of my mistrust, and I knew he would raise hell over the insulting way I'd gone about showing him. No, I couldn't ask him for that. Imagine...afraid to ask my boyfriend to use protection, because of what he might think (or rather, jump to deny and guilt me for ever considering).

Once again, it was time to re-evaluate my situation.

...No pressure, right?

§

_**Nov. 13, 2006: **Thanks to Motchi for her awesome beta skills. I know this one isn't very long, but it's supposed to be more of a divider, a break from the TifaxReeve in order to provide some backstory on her relationship with Reno. This ping-ponging back and forth between Reno and Reeve should only last until I've fleshed out the rest of the characters and the conflict starts. Also, the ping-pong effect should set the mood for the story, given Tifa's position._

_More Reeve coming next! Also, more development on Vincent's character, and we'll get to see Aerith._

_If you haven't yet read my VinTif story Agapé, go and do that. You'll enjoy it, I'm willing to bet (if you like the pairing), and it's updated regularly._

_Reviews are love :)  
_


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